Mr Carson vs Charles
by Alilly
Summary: Mr Carson joins Branson, Bates and Moseley for a drink...
1. Chapter 1

Charles vs. Mr Carson

Mrs Hughes watched sceptically as Mr Carson put on his coat and Mr Branson and Mr Bates chatted by the doorway whilst they waited for him.

"And what's that look for?" Mr Carson asked.

Mrs Hughes shrugged and held back a smile but the look of scepticism was still there. Mr Carson shook his head and mumbled something under his breath.

"It's not like I've never taken a night off before." He said.

"I know." She replied. "And the last time was…when? Do you even remember?" she smiled.

"Are you saying I shouldn't go? Is that it?" he asked and for a moment she was afraid he was going to change his mind.

"No!" she said quickly. "That's not it at all. You deserve a night out."

"But…?"

"No but. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by… I just…" a broad smile spread across her face. "You going for a night in the pub with Mr Bates and Mr Branson… It's just…" she was having to hold back a laugh now.

Carson rolled his eyes. "I really do wonder sometimes what kind of person you imagine me to be. I didn't spend all my life in a dress suit you know! I've been around Mrs Hughes!"

"Oh! Well, perhaps someday you'll tell me some of your pre-dress suit life!" Mrs Hughes said with a quick raise of her eyebrows.

"Perhaps." Carson replied in a low purr.

"Ready to go Mr Carson?" Mr Branson asked. "Or is Mrs Hughes not going to let you out?"

"I'm ready." Carson answered.

"And I'm not his mother to be telling him where he can and cannot go!" Mrs Hughes added.

"His mother no…" Branson grinned, "But sure if you don't keep him in line who will Mrs Hughes?"

"I am quite capable of keeping myself in line! Now are we going or not?" Carson said brusquely, heading for the door.

"We're going! We're going!" Branson laughed. "Don't wait up Mrs Hughes!"

"Good evening Mrs Hughes. I'm sure we won't be too late." Mr Bates told her quietly.

"You're all big enough and bold enough to sort yourselves out." Mrs Hughes said but to herself she hoped they wouldn't get up to anything foolish. Don't be silly, she told herself, whatever about Mr Branson, Mr Carson and Mr Bates were sensible men.

As they made their way through the village they came across Mr Moseley and invited him to join them. The more the merrier, as Mr Branson said. Carson held back a smile at the look of pure joy that swept across Moseley's face when they asked him to come along. Poor Mr Moseley always seemed so desperate to belong, Carson thought. Then again, he thought, aren't we all?

If Carson was quite honest, a night sitting on a barstool drinking beer and inhaling smoke was not his idea of a good night. One of the reasons, actually the only reason, he had accepted the invite from Mr Branson was because he had seen the look on Mrs Hughes's face when she heard him being asked to join Branson and Bates for a Christmas drink. She thought it preposterous that he would go to the pub with young Mr Branson. She had assumed he would decline, that he would rather follow his usual, sedate routine of a cup of tea in her pantry after dinner and then off to his bed to read a little before going to sleep. Although she said nothing, it annoyed him, that look on her face. Even if she was correct in a large part of her assumption. He would rather sit in her pantry with her and a cup of tea than in a pub with a bunch of raucous men.

Despite his reservations about the night however, he was surprised to find that he was quite enjoying himself. Branson was entertaining company and Mr Bates was always an interesting person to talk to. Moseley… the man was harmless but he obviously couldn't hold his drink! After three pints he began to slur his words and was now slumped silently in his chair, occasionally falling asleep.

"So, Mr Carson, where did you work before you came to Downton?" Branson asked.

"Oh, here and there." Carson replied vaguely. "Shall I get another round in?" The last thing he wanted was to discuss his past. He had to push his way through a group of men to get to the bar. "Same again Jim." He said to the barman.

"Righto Mr Carson." The barman replied cheerfully. "So how are things up at the big house? I saw your housekeeper walking through the village the other day. She's lookin' well."

Carson nodded. "Things are good. Busy of course. Mrs Hugh…"

The group of men started to shout and jeer amongst themselves and jostled Carson a little. Louts, he thought, what an undignified way to behave.

"Keep it down fellas!" the barman shouted. He turned to Carson. "I don't know," he said shaking his head, "is it me or can blokes not hold their ale anymore?"

Carson made it back to the table again to find Moseley had woken up and appeared to be getting romantic advice from Branson. Carson gave Bates a questioning look.

"I don't know," Bates said with a grin, "I went to the gents and came back to find the conversation had turned to women!"

"Not women," Branson corrected, "Romance!"

"Ah, my apologies, I stand corrected." Bates laughed. "And you seem to be quite the expert on the subject."

"I'm a Celt – passion is in my blood!" Branson said dramatically.

"Passion and romance are the same thing then are they?" Carson asked.

"No, but you can't have one without the other." Branson answered. Carson looked sceptical. "You start to love someone, it happens slowly, sometimes without you even realising. But it's passion that takes that and turns it into a romance! Passion is what makes you take action, to make your love known. Passion is what makes the world turn. If people didn't get passionate about anything there would be no progress, no new inventions, no…revolution!"

"Must you drag revolution into everything?" Carson asked wearily. "Passion can also cause things to go wrong. Cause people to make mistakes and act hastily."

"That's a risk that has to be taken if we want to achieve our dreams!" Branson said. Carson almost laughed. Whether it was his youth, his passion or his politics, Branson was the only person he'd ever known to speak with such conviction all the time! "You're not convinced." Branson said observing him. Before Carson could answer Branson continued. "You ask Mrs Hughes about passion. She's a fellow Celt – she knows how important it is! Now, where's the gents?" he got up and followed Mr Bates' directions.

"We were all passionate at his age." Bates said. Moseley had nodded off again.

"Hmm." Carson nodded but as he thought about it he wondered if he had been. As Butler he tried to avoid passion, he'd always equated passion with a loss of control and if there was one thing a good butler needed to have it was control. He thought about Mrs Hughes. Would he describe her as passionate? He could honestly say he had never seen her lose control. He had seen her lose her temper. He had seen her laugh until tears rolled down her cheeks. He could imagine her being passionate. Now that he thought about it, sometimes he fancied he saw a hint of something in her eyes that he couldn't quite pinpoint…

Suddenly the room erupted in shouting and there appeared to be a scuffle at the other side of the room.

"What's going on?" Bates asked, standing up to get a better view. "It's Branson!"

"What?" Carson jumped to his feet.

They strolled through the village. Branson was still clearly adrenalized from the altercation in the pub. Carson was appalled to have been drawn into such a situation, though he admitted it had not been entirely Branson's fault. The louts who had been causing a raucous all evening had noticed Branson's accent and, needing little excuse to start picking on someone, they had shouted insults at him as he returned from the gents. Branson being Branson of course was not one to turn the other cheek and quickly found himself in a scuffle. Bates and Carson had come to his rescue, Bates of course being limited in what he could do due to his incapacity.

"You know Mr Carson, I think you're a bit of a dark horse." Branson grinned at him. "You certainly know how to handle yourself. I'd say that wasn't your first pub brawl eh?"

"No, Mr Branson, it wasn't. But that's nothing to be proud of!" Carson told him grimly.

"And you're pretty quick on your feet when you have to be Mr Bates!" Branson continued.

"Everyone should be able to defend themselves." Bates replied.

"If someone had asked me a week ago who I'd like to have my back in a brawl, I'll be honest, I wouldn't have picked either of you two!" Branson laughed. He looked Carson up and down. "You know what? I don't think I'd like to have come up against you back in the day!"

Carson was tiring of this. Branson seemed to have no grasp of how inappropriate it was for the staff of Downton Abbey to be involved in an altercation in the village pub.

"Mr Branson, I realise you were not entirely to blame and that you were provoked. But you must realise that as a member of His Lordship's staff one should take every precaution to avoid being involved in such instances." Carson told him sternly.

"You said yourself I didn't start it Mr Carson." Branson protested.

"I realise that Mr Branson, however, as a representative of Downton Abbey one should realise when and how to remove oneself from such situations with the minimum of disruption." Carson continued.

"I'd say we did that. To be honest, things could have been a lot worse!" Branson said.

Carson sighed. There was no point in talking to the lad now, he was too drunk and too hyper.

"Can we just agree that it is not something to boast about and not discuss it again?" Carson asked. "In fact, how about we don't discuss anything for the rest of the walk home?"

"Agreed." Bates said nodding.

"Okay Mr Carson." Branson was quiet for a moment. "There's just one problem Mr Carson."

Carson sighed. "What's that Mr Branson?"

"We've left Mr Moseley behind at the pub."

Carson came to a standstill and looked around. True enough, no sign of Moseley.

"Oh for…!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews. I should have done the usual these characters are not mine, wish they were and so on at the beginning of the first chapter but I haven't used this in so long that I couldn't remember how to edit after I uploaded. I'd also like to apologise for the sloppy formatting (same excuse!). Off topic but if anyone was reading my first and only other attempt at a DA fic I completely lost track of it and probably won't be updating it, sorry. Well, that's enough from me. Please enjoy!**

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><p>They arrived back at the pub to find Jim, the barman, settling Molseley on a bench outside. He grinned as he saw them return.<p>

"Thought you'd probably come back for him." He said.

"Hmm. Is he alright?" Carson asked. In the darkness he couldn't quite tell if Molesley was awake or not.

"Let's just say he won't be half as good tomorrow morning!" the barman laughed and went back inside.

"Mr Molesley?" Bates poked Molesley's arm to rouse him. Molesley mumbled incoherently. Bates sighed. "It's going to be a long walk home."

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><p>They arrived at the Crawley's house and Branson and Carson dragged Molesley to the servant's entrance. Their efforts to sober Molesley up on the walk back had failed and he was still just as incoherent.<p>

"Now what?" Bates asked as they leaned Molesley against the door. "There's no way he'll make it to bed on his own."

"Can't we just leave him here?" Branson asked.

"No we cannot!" Carson snapped. Branson looked sheepish. Bates started to search Molesley's pockets for a key to the door. "If we get him indoors, then maybe we can just leave him in the kitchen." He opened the door and peeked tentatively just to be sure no one was still up and about.

"No, no. What if Mrs Crawley comes across him tomorrow morning? It wouldn't be right." Carson said stuffily.

"Well what else can we do?" Branson asked exasperated.

Carson was silent.

"Do you know the layout of the house?" Bates asked Carson.

"Yes.." Carson replied hesitantly.

"Perhaps you and Mr Branson could get him to his room. I'd offer but…" he indicated to his cane, "I might be more of a hindrance."

Branson readily sprang into action grabbing Molesley by the arm. Carson however was more hesitant. "Come on Mr Carson, either we leave him in the kitchen or we take him to his room. It's up to you." Branson said.

Carson sighed. "Fine. Though what this will look like if we're discovered…" he grabbed Molesley's other arm. Branson couldn't be sure but he thought he heard Carson mumble something about "undignified behaviour". Branson had never met anyone who was so concerned with "dignity". It must be very difficult being Mr Carson, he thought. "It'll all look better in the morning Mr Carson, we'll have a good laugh about it!" Branson grinned.

"Sneaking around the house of the future Earl of Grantham is not something I find amusing Mr Branson." Carson said drawing himself up to his full height and fixing Branson with a stern glare. Branson rolled his eyes and decided not to say anything else. Bates was holding back a smile. He had never noticed before what opposites Mr Carson and Mr Branson were.

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><p>A few minutes later Carson and Branson were doing their best to drag Molesley along the corridors of the house as quietly as possible.<p>

"Which way?" Branson asked.

"Left, on the end." Carson replied.

"That way? Is that it?" Branson asked.

"No!" Carson hissed. "Left I said! That's the way to Mrs Crawley's room."

"Really?" Branson sounded thoughtful. "I won't ask how you know the way to Mrs Crawley's bedroom!" he grinned wickedly.

"I'm not in the mood Mr Branson!" Carson growled. Branson laughed quietly to himself.

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><p>They eventually managed to get Molesley to his room and made their escape out of the house again. Carson breathed a deep sigh of relief once he found himself standing safely outside the servant's entrance.<p>

"Well, if you ever decide to give up your life in service I think you could probably make a good living as a cat burglar!" Bates joked and was greeted by a thunderous look from Carson. They made their way down the road a little from the house and Branson suddenly produced a bottle of whiskey.

"Do you want a swig?" he asked offering Bates the bottle.

"Where did you get that?" Carson demanded.

"It fell out of the pocket of one of those thugs in the pub." Branson answered.

"You stole it?" Carson asked appalled.

"It fell out of his pocket while he was thumping me. Forgive me if I wasn't in the mood to do him a favour and return it to him!" Branson retorted. Bates accepted the bottle and took a drink.

"Mr Bates!" Carson admonished.

"I think we deserve it after everything!" Bates told him and offered Carson the bottle.

"Go on Mr Carson. Pretend you're not the dignified butler of Downton Abbey for a while." Branson said.

Carson scoffed. "Dignity went out the window whilst we were at the pub."

"You've nothing to lose now then eh?" Branson joked.

Carson hesitated a moment longer but then accepted the bottle from Bates. Bates and Branson exchanged surprised looks. They really didn't think he would take another drink. Bates made his way to a nearby bench and sat down. Carson joined him and Branson sat on the ground, taking the bottle back for another swig.

"So…" Branson began, "is now a better time to ask how you know where Mrs Crawley's bedroom is?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews everyone. I thought it would finish with the third chapter but it's a bit long so I decided to split it. **

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><p>Carson explained that he knew the whereabouts of Mrs Crawley's bedroom because he had overseen the arrival of some of the Crawley's belongings when they had first arrived, but Branson looked at him sceptically.<p>

"Well what other reason would I have for knowing?" Carson demanded in exasperation.

Branson raised an eyebrow. "If I have to tell you that Mr Carson, you've been a bachelor for too long!" he grinned wickedly. Bates held back a laugh on seeing the look on Carson's face as he struggled to formulate a reply.

"Mr Branson is teasing you I think Mr Carson. He knows your reasons for knowing the location of Mrs Crawley's bedroom would and could only be honourable reasons."

"Of course I do." Branson said. "I don't think I've ever met anyone more upstanding than you Mr Carson."

Carson relented in his furious glaring, realising that Branson had simply been trying to get a rise out of him. It had been so long since he had been solely in the company of men in social circumstances that he had forgotten the propensity of men, particularly younger men to tease and use risqué insinuations as a form of humour. There had been a time when he himself would have been the instigator of such banter rather than the object of it. When did I become so staid, he wondered

"Are you keeping the rest of that bottle to yourself?" he asked Branson.

"No, help yourself." Branson replied in surprise, handing him the bottle.

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><p>When they reached the last drop in the bottle, Carson was leaning back on the bench staring at the stars and Bates and Branson were deep in conversation . Carson had only barely been listening for the last half an hour, instead he had been reliving the night's events. He would never admit it but he had felt surge of adrenalin when they were sneaking Molesley into the house. He couldn't remember the last time he had done something underhand, not that it was exactly underhand but… it had been years since he had done something he knew he wasn't supposed to be doing! Back in the days of the Cheerful Charlies and Griggs underhand had almost become a way of life. Carson at the time had convinced himself that most of what Griggs talked him into doing was relatively harmless and was necessary if they weren't to end up on the streets or going hungry for a night or two. After a while Griggs began to use the routine of the Cheerful Charlies more as a front for other less honest work and that was where Carson had drawn the line. He had put up with feeling like a fool on stage and the ridiculous performances because he had thought it was all he was good at, that he deserved no better.<p>

When he arrived at Downton as a footman he had suddenly discovered something he could be very good at, something he could take pride in and made him take pride in himself also. Life at Downton Abbey was a world away from life on the road with the Cheerful Charlies and he was desperate to keep that distance. Having finally found a reason to be proud of himself it made the memories of all those times when he had felt a fool all the more bitter.

Within a few years he had gone from being Charlie, to Charles, to Mr Carson. Looking back he thought they seemed like three different people. Charlie and Mr Carson certainly bore no relation to one another and for that he felt no loss. Even as he had lived it, the life of Charlie – Cheerful Charlie, had not been true to him. As much as he performed a part on stage he had realised, that he was also playing a part in everyday life. When he had arrived at Downton and become Charles, the footman, he had felt more like himself than he ever had before. He felt that he belonged.

Bit by bit though, Charles had been replaced by Mr Carson. It had felt strange at first, when he became butler and those who he had worked alongside suddenly started to treat him as a different person. Gradually however, those who had worked with him had moved on and been replaced until there was no one left who remembered 'Charles'. He wondered if that was when the change occurred, when the old cook Mrs Mortimer retired and was replaced by Mrs Patmore. Was that when he had become so sombre? He thought again of Mrs Hughes' reaction to the idea of him going for a drink and Branson's surprise that he could handle himself in a fight. Even Mr Bates' comment that his reasons for knowing where Mrs Crawley's bedroom was could, how had he put it… "would and could only be honourable". They made him sound like some aloof, dispassionate person who did only his master's bidding and no more.

Bates and Branson had started to sing but he was only vaguely aware of them. Perhaps they were right, he thought. Branson had spoken earlier about passion, when was the last time he had felt passionate about something other than the serving order of dinner or some such? He thought back to the days of 'Charles' and wondered how very different he was to 'Mr Carson'.

Charles had fun doing many things he chided staff for doing now. Charles had been extremely nervous of the Dowager Countess and felt she belonged to a world a million miles from his. These days he sometimes felt that only the Dowager Countess still lived in this world he had come to rely on. Charles liked to hum sometimes as he worked. Mr Carson never hummed. Charles had crushes, lots of them, on housemaids, girls in the village, even Lady Grantham when she first arrived (he blushed at the memory) and he had acted on a number of them too! There had been kisses and hand holding and a few quick fumbles… (he felt himself blushing again). Mr Carson did not have crushes. Not in the way Charles had. Not in the foolish, romantic sense that young people do. That was not to say he had not been attracted to anyone. Of course he had, he was only human despite what some of the staff might think! It was just that Mr Carson was better at concealing his attraction. And fortunately he was better than Charles at suppressing the urge to act upon any attraction (although he could remember a few occasions when it had been quite a challenge).

Branson interrupted his thoughts by singing particularly out of tune. He thought about passion again. Perhaps the biggest difference between Charles and Mr Carson was the latter's ability to suppress passion and the former's willingness to give into it. Charles had always looked forward to change. Mr Carson dreaded it.

Bates joined Branson in the song's chorus and suddenly they heard an angry voice yelling from a nearby window.

"Will you lot shut-up? There's people trying to bloody sleep here!"

Branson and Bates burst into laughter. Carson finished the last drop in the bottle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Argh! I thought it would be finished with this chapter but then I went and wrote more. The morning after so to speak!**

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><p>As they made their way home all three sang loudly until they got lost in the words and had to stop.<p>

"That's not right." Bates said.

"Start again then!" Branson said, and they did.

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><p>As they walked up the drive to Downton Abbey Carson looked up at the clear night sky and took a deep breath. He felt refreshed and energetic in a way he hadn't for a long time. For the first time in years, decades even, he had considered his life and position and come to the conclusion that he needed to take more control of it. Starting tonight he had decided. Charles was a part of him and did not need to be kept buried all the time.<p>

Fumbling through the servants entrance they were surprised to find Mrs Hughes emerge from the servants hall. Bates had one foot on the stairs and paused.

"Mrs Hughes!"

"What's the matter?" Carson asked worriedly.

"Nothing." Mrs Hughes replied lightly whilst eyeing them suspiciously.

"I'll say good night." Bates said, nodding at Mrs Hughes.

"Good night Mr Bates." Mrs Hughes replied. She looked Carson over again more carefully. "Did you have a good night?"

"Oh…yes, well," Had he, he wondered. "Yes." He stared at her.

He's three sheets to the wind, she thought. "Would you like a glass of water or a cup of tea before you retire?" she asked. He kept staring. "It might help… minimize any ailments tomorrow."

"Hmm? Oh yes, a glass of water perhaps." He followed her into the kitchen and watched her as she filled a glass of water. Even at this hour of the night when she must be tired, she still moved lightly about the kitchen. "Why are you still up?"

"Daisy has been unwell. I stayed up with her awhile." She turned around and handed him a glass of water.

"Is she very ill?" he asked concerned.

"No, I'm sure she'll be fine tomorrow. Although I've told her to have a lie in and given her duties to Beth." She looked beadily at his coat. "Is that a grass stain?"

"Hmm?" he looked down. "Oh. I… I sat on the grass for a while."

"You sat on the grass?" she looked at him like he had two heads.

He began to remove his coat, struggling slightly so she had to help him. How often, he wondered, had they stood this close to one another over the years? How often had he thought about what it would be like to reach out and touch her, hold her hand or simply pat her arm simply because he felt like it? He held onto her arm for a moment as he took the coat from her.

"Yes, after… well, on the way home we…doesn't matter." He left his coat on a chair. "Umm…you don't mind us being so late do you?"

"Of course not. I'm not your keeper." She smiled.

"No, you're just the HOUSE-keeper!" he gave a short laugh. Mrs Hughes looked at him with a slightly amused look. She had never seen him drunk before.

"I'm glad you had a good time." She said.

"I did. It's made me realise how long it's been since I last had a good time." He began to stare at her intently again.

There was something about his intense gaze that made her feel she should avert her eyes. "It's time I turned in for the night." She said turning away slightly.

He jerked suddenly and exclaimed, "Would you like a cup of tea first?"

She glanced at him and shook her head. "No, thank you. It's late. We'll be use to neither man nor beast tomorrow if we don't get some sleep soon." She smiled.

"I suppose." He said reluctantly. He couldn't think of anything else to say to prolong her stay in the kitchen. He took a step closer. He could feel his heart pounding rapidly.

"Mr Carson?" Mrs Hughes looked up at him, her brow furrowed in concern. She hoped he wasn't having a funny turn.

Concern became surprise however when he lifted his hand to her chin and tilted her head gently as he lowered his own. Before she could properly register what was happening his lips were pressed against hers and his other arm had encircled her waist.

He half expected a slap across the face but when none was forthcoming he intensified the pressure on her lips and felt them part, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He felt her stance soften and they leaned back against the table. His right hand cradled the back of her head and his fingers buried into her hair, his other arm still pulling her close. Eventually he knew they must break apart. He took a step back and although he felt a little afraid of her reaction there was also a part of him that felt quite pleased with himself.

"Well I…" she took a deep breath, gathering herself and tucking a lock of hair that had come loose behind her ear. "I'll see you in the morning Mr Carson. Good night." And with that she left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you again for all the reviews guys. This fic just seems to be getting longer! Hope you're still enjoying :)**

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><p>Carson watched Branson at the other end of the breakfast table. He isn't even pale, Carson thought. Branson was chattering cheerfully with the housemaids, he caught Carson's eye briefly and smiled before returning his attention to charming the housemaids. He must be feeling the effects of last night, Carson thought, he must. Nearer, Bates was quietly eating his breakfast. He seemed alright. Carson watched him carefully. There was a definite greyish pallor to Bates' complexion, which made Carson feel a bit better. At least I'm not the only one feeling the worse for wear, he thought.<p>

He had awoken that morning feeling as though his skull was being sliced open. He had momentarily panicked, convinced that he must have injured his head. After checking in the mirror and ensuring his skull was still intact, the memories of the night before began to flood back. He stared at his ashen, unshaven face in the mirror.

"Oh dear."

As he dressed he tried to think of everything that had happened last night except Mrs Hughes and the kiss, but between the memories of Molesley falling asleep, the drinking, the singing… between all of those the memory of Mrs Hughes and the kiss kept interrupting. And even though he knew he should be ashamed, and a little bit of him was, part of him felt elated when he remembered the feeling of her in his arms. The feeling of her lips. It had been years since he had kissed a woman, he had actually wondered last night if he still knew how, not that he had expected the opportunity to ever arise again so soon, if at all.

He wondered how she would react today. When he had thought of facing her this morning he felt his heart palpitate. Would she be angry? Perhaps she had already gone to his Lordship to lay complaint. He doubted that, she would speak to him first. She had not seemed angry last night. Had she? He had to admit his judgment last night had been drastically impaired, perhaps he was not remembering accurately, perhaps she had been angry. But no, an angry Mrs Hughes was not something he would forget, no matter how intoxicated. He replayed it again in his mind and tried not to dwell too much on how good it felt but instead to remember her reaction. She had not objected. She had allowed him to press against her, to deepen his kiss and run his hand through her hair. She had allowed him, but she had not done anything herself. He realised her arms had remained at her side the entire time. She allowed her lips to part but she had not actively kissed him back had she? He wasn't sure now. The more he went over it the more blurry the memory became.

When he had arrived in the servants hall for breakfast Mrs Hughes was already seated at the table. As he was worrying about how to address her, she smiled at him and said "Good morning Mr Carson." Just as she did every day. He had replied just as he did every day.

Breakfast was almost over and it was as though nothing had happened the night before. He was starting to wonder if he had imagined it. The bell went.

"Oh here we go." Miss O'Brien said, finishing up her tea. Everyone quickly finished and went about their business. Carson thought perhaps Mrs Hughes would wait behind to have a quick word but she did not. Everyone had gone except himself, Branson and Bates.

"Good night last night eh lads?" Branson said cheerfully.

"Please tell me you're not feeling as good as you're pretending to!" Bates replied a little sourly.

Branson laughed. "Sore heads today? I feel fine. Must be your age!" and with that he disappeared out the door with another cheeky laugh.

"Must be." Bates sighed, looking sympathetically at Carson. "I hope you weren't in trouble with Mrs Hughes." He added. Carson had seemed very distracted during breakfast and Bates had noticed he kept glancing shyly at Mrs Hughes. Perhaps it was just the hangover.

"No, no." Carson said brusquely. "Of course not." He checked his watch. "Best get to work."

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><p>Carson had never been so glad to have the family all going for lunch and being out of the house for the day. It meant he had a few hours where he could nurse his headache and hopefully talk to Mrs Hughes about last night's incident. He went to his office and sat at his desk in order to try and formulate a plan on how to approach the topic with Mrs Hughes. Before he had opportunity to give it much thought however Mrs Hughes arrived.<p>

"Pardon me Mr Carson, I don't mean to interrupt…"

"You're not!" he jumped to his feet and signalled for her to approach his desk.

"I was sure Daisy would be better today but if anything she seems to be worse. I just wanted you to know I've sent for Dr Clarkson." Mrs Hughes said.

"Oh dear. I hope it's nothing too serious." Carson said, genuinely concerned.

"Probably not, but to be on the safe side." Mrs Hughes smiled. "Should I ask Dr Clarkson to take a look at yourself and Mr Bates?"

Carson looked sheepish. "No, thank you, I think we'll live." Then he remembered and began to feel a blush rising. He cleared his throat. "Why just Mr Bates and I?" he asked curiously.

"Well Mr Branson seems perfectly fine. You and Mr Bates however…seem a little green." She tried to hold back a grin.

"Hmm. Apparently it's our age." Carson said dryly.

"Mr Branson said that I assume." Mrs Hughes laughed. "I should get back to Daisy." She began to turn away.

"Mrs Hughes." Carson said gently. She paused and waited for him to continue. "About last night…I hope I didn't…upset you. When I, you know…." He shrugged and looked at the floor.

Mrs Hughes also for a moment seemed to find something very interesting on the floor. Oh no, Carson thought, she is upset.

"It's quite alright Mr Carson." Mrs Hughes said evenly. "You caught me by surprise, I'll admit. But I realise you weren't in your proper mind at the time."

Carson gave a sigh of relief.

"You're not terribly offended then?" he asked.

"No." she shook her head. She looked slightly amused. "It was a bit of an eye opener actually."

"It was?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"Seeing the great Mr Carson intoxicated!" she smiled.

Once again he looked awkward. "Rest assured I won't be making a habit of it." He was relieved that she was taking it all so lightly.

Mrs Hughes bit her lip and seemed to be debating whether to say something.

"What is it?" Carson asked warily.

"It's just," she paused, a little unsure. "Please understand Mr Carson that I certainly don't begrudge you going for the odd drink or enjoying yourself and I do not meant to cast any aspersions on your character." She paused again. Carson began to worry. "I realise drink can have different effects on different men and there are much worse effects than…feeling amorous."

Carson began to look really confused.

"But…" she was not quite sure how to phrase what she needed to say. "To put it bluntly Mr Carson, and I hope you don't mind my doing so, I can handle you occasionally directing some drunken advances towards me but I must worry for the girls under my charge and…"

"Good God!" Carson looked appalled. "I would never! You think I…" he was speechless.

"I know under normal circumstances…"

"Under ANY circumstances!" Carson said vehemently. Mrs Hughes began to fear she had really offended him. "What happened last night was not because I had been drinking." Mrs Hughes raised an eyebrow. "Well, it did but not just because I'd been drinking. I didn't want to kiss just any woman. It wasn't a case of any port in a storm, I was only interested in your port! I mean…that's a bad analogy." Carson was struggling to explain.

"Mr Carson I really didn't mean to cause offense." Mrs Hughes looked extremely apologetic even though she was not quite sure what he was trying to say.

"Mrs Hughes I…" Carson began again but was interrupted by a knock at the door and Anna entering.

"Sorry to interrupt. Dr Clarkson has arrived Mrs Hughes, I thought you might like to be there when he examines Daisy." Anna noticed Mr Carson seemed unusually flushed.

"Thank you Anna, I'll be right there." Mrs Hughes replied joining Anna at the door. She turned to Carson awkwardly. "I am terribly sorry to have upset you Mr Carson."

Before he could say she had not she was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Once again, thank you all for the reviews. Sorry for the delay with this chapter, the next chapter will have more actual Carson/Hughes interaction.**

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><p>"Well don't just stand there!" Carson snapped at the young delivery boy. The boy jumped and immediately hurried towards the kitchen with his boxes. Carson sighed, he had not meant to be so harsh with the young lad but since his talk with Mrs Hughes earlier in the day he had found himself quite distracted. Despite the family being out for the day and having more time on his hands he had been unable to find a suitable opportunity to speak to Mrs Hughes discreetly again. Not that he was sure exactly what he would say aside from ensure her that he would never, ever, make inappropriate advances towards any member of the female staff or indeed herself ever again. He walked with slumped shoulders towards the servants' hall. This, he said to himself, is exactly why you had set aside those foolish notions of your youth to begin with.<p>

Last night, under the spell of alcohol, he had conjured something of a sentimental memory of what '_Charles_' life had been like. He had forgotten how much time 'Charles' had wasted with such romantic foolishness. How often Charles had been broken hearted, though admittedly never for very long. He had always had a surprising capacity to push aside his feelings and it usually wasn't too long before another crush appeared anyway. He wondered if a part of him had always preferred it when these little romances ended. As he recalled he never made any particular effort to salvage any of these dalliances or develop them into anything more. He might not have acknowledged it at the time but it had probably always been at the back of his mind that personal relationships and reaching the position of butler were not compatible.

Carson was so lost in his thoughts as he entered the servants hall that he almost did not notice Mr Bates sitting at the table polishing shoes.

"Mr Carson." Bates nodded.

"Oh Mr Bates." Carson said distractedly. Carson looked around the room trying to remember why had come there. Bates eyed him carefully.

"Everything alright Mr Carson?" he asked.

"Yes." As was his habit when he felt he needed to emphasis his certainty, Carson straightened his shoulders back and set his jaw determinedly. "Yes, of course." He took a quick look over Bates' work. "The family should be back in an hour or so. I imagine they'll want to progress straight to getting ready for dinner."

Bates nodded and Carson gave the shoes one last look of approval before leaving the hall. Once he was back in his pantry Carson sat down heavily at his desk. This was ridiculous, there were so many things he should have been able to get done today instead of fretting over a misunderstanding with Mrs Hughes. 'It _wasn't really a misunderstanding though was it?_', a little voice in his head said. Perhaps, he thought, he should simply go along with the excuse Mrs Hughes had already provided him with – drunkenness. If he just agreed that the drink had made him a little… then he could apologize, swear he would never drink again, therefore it would never happen again and that would be that. But could he bear the thought of Mrs Hughes thinking he turned into some kind of letch when he consumed alcohol? What if it scared her off from having the odd small glass of wine with him of an evening?

However what was the alternative, he wondered. Tell her why he really kissed her? He wasn't even sure that he knew. '_Not true_,' the little voice spoke again, '_you kissed her because you have been thinking about it for a long time. You thought if you kissed her once then you would get over it and that would be that.'_

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><p>Carson preoccupied his mind for the rest of the evening with dinner and did not allow himself to think of Mrs Hughes again, even during the servants dinner and he had avoided all but the most basic of interaction by going over the cellar list in his head. Mrs Hughes appeared to be doing something similar he concluded because normally she would make some gentle inquiry as to his silence but this time did not. He managed to keep all those thoughts at bay until he until did his final rounds. As he walked about in the silence of the house he found that his thoughts returned to being at sixes and sevens again. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so unsettled. He was sometimes frustrated with the people around him and he was frequently puzzled by the behaviour of today's society, despite that he was always certain of his own mind. But he had questioned himself more in the last 24 hours than he probably had in the previous thirty years put together!<p>

He was making this too complicated, he decided. All he needed was to form a concise and considered explanation for Mrs Hughes so that tomorrow everything could go back to normal. The only option was to go along with the idea that the alcohol had caused him to become overly familiar and apologize. The other explanation was a definite non-runner. He _might _be somewhat willing to admit to himself that he had been attracted to Mrs Hughes for some time and that _perhaps_ he had wondered once or twice what it would be like to kiss her but he was most certainly not going to be telling her that. It was too scandalous to even contemplate!

As he made his way downstairs he worked on the wording of his apology but as his foot reached the bottom step a thought occurred to him – she had not ask for an apology. In fact, as far as Mrs Hughes was concerned the matter might already be settled and if he went offering further explanations might he not just be raking it all up again and prolonging the embarrassment? He sighed audibly.

"Mr Carson? Are you alright?" Branson's voice came from around the corner.

"Mr Branson. I'm fine." Carson replied brusquely but Branson's look indicated he didn't believe that to be true.

"You were quiet at dinner." Branson observed. "Not still suffering from last night I hope!"

Carson rolled his eyes. "You may find this surprising Mr Branson but I've had hangovers before and it would take more than last night's few tipples to leave me incapacitated for an entire day!"

Branson laughed. "Oh I believe you Mr Carson! I thought maybe our night out had caused some tension with Mrs Hughes though. It's not like you two to ignore each other like you did at dinner."

"I didn't realise we were under such scrutiny." Carson said dryly as they made their way to the now empty servants' hall.

"Not scrutiny, but… it was fairly noticeable. I wouldn't like to think she was upset with you over last night." Branson continued. Carson wondered briefly how observant Branson really was, had he perhaps seen anything else…

"As Mrs Hughes herself said last night she's not my keeper." Carson said evenly.

"Mother."

"Pardon?" Carson asked.

"Last night, she said she wasn't your mother." Branson explained. "Well, unless you're referring to a different conversation you had with her. But before we left I…"

"Yes, yes I remember." Carson cut him off.

"So, you're not having a row?" Branson prompted.

"No." Carson replied exasperated. "And even if we were it would be nothing for you to concern yourself with Mr Branson."

"Of course not, sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Branson grinned. "Well, maybe I did a little."

Carson couldn't help but laugh.

"Any word about poor Mr Molesley?" Branson enquired.

"No, but then there is no reason why we would be informed of anything." Carson said.

"Not officially, but gossip travels faster than his Lordship's motor around here!" Branson said taking a seat at the table.

Carson said nothing but 'hmm' and took a seat also. He realised Branson was still watching him carefully though he pretended to be looking at a book.

"Is there something you want to say Mr Branson?" Carson asked him directly.

Branson seemed to hesitate for a moment and glanced down at the book in his hands for a moment as he began. "Last night…", he paused and looked up again at Carson.

"Yes?" Carson asked warily.

"I might have seen something." Branson said carefully.

"Such as?" Carson asked although he knew what was coming.

"I might have seen you and Mrs Hughes…kissing." He said. "Or I might have been mistaken." He added smoothly.

Carson could feel his face flushing. It was a waste of time trying to deny it. Branson himself now seemed to be at a loss as to what to say too.

"I mean, it's none of my business of course." Branson said hurriedly.

"And yet you wanted it to be known that you knew." Carson said. "Do you intend to inform his Lordship?"

"God no!" Branson shook his head. "And I wasn't trying to rub it in, telling you that I knew, I just thought…" Branson shrugged, "I don't know, I thought you might need someone to talk to. It's obviously not a regular occurrence or things wouldn't be so strained between yourself and Mrs Hughes today."

Carson truly did not know what to say. He had been struggling to discuss it in his own mind all day he certainly did not think himself capable of discussing it with anyone else.

"Was she upset?" Branson asked sympathetically.

"No." Carson shook his head.

"Well that's good." He smiled encouragingly but the look on Carson's face suggested that perhaps it wasn't good. "Oh, are you upset with her?"

"Of course not! How could I be upset when it was me who kissed her." Carson said tetchily.

"Well I didn't see who started it," Branson said defensively, "all I saw was you both…" due to the look Carson was giving him he couldn't quite bring himself to say the word, "and neither of you looked like you weren't enjoying it. In fact, I went back out as quickly as I could because I didn't want to witness things going any further!"

"They didn't go any further!" Carson exclaimed. "Mrs Hughes is a respectable woman; she would never do such a thing!"

"I didn't mean to slander Mrs Hughes' reputation." Branson said apologetically. "Although if you ask me, it's an antiquated notion that two consenting adults…"

"I didn't ask!" Carson interrupted curtly.

They were both quiet again for a few moments.

"So did you not discuss what happened?" Branson asked.

"We did. Sort of." Carson suddenly looked gloomy.

"Sort of?"

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><p>Carson relayed the discussion with Mrs Hughes and tried to ignore the slightly amused look on Branson's face as he heard some of the details. After hearing it all Branson straightened himself up in his chair and faced Carson fully.<p>

"I don't see what you're so miserable about Mr Carson."

"Have you not been listening?" Carson asked frustrated.

"I have but I don't think you have." Branson smirked. "She wasn't upset. She said she doesn't mind you going for the odd drink even if it does make you a bit frisky…"

"She did not say that!"

"Forgive my taking liberty with the exact wording!" Branson held his hands up for a second. "And…" he paused for effect. "She said she doesn't mind you making advances towards her."

Carson shook his head in disagreement. "No, no, I don't think that's what she said exactly."

"What did she say exactly then?" Branson asked.

"Well, she…" Carson went over it again in his mind. "She…" Had she really said that? "Well, she might have said it but I'm sure it was not what she meant. I mean, I don't think she meant it in the sense that you are suggesting she meant it."

Branson sighed dramatically. "It sounds to me Mr Carson that you're looking a gift horse in the mouth!"

Carson felt himself bristling slightly at the tone Branson was using. "I think perhaps you are missing the point Mr Branson. It is in fact irrelevant whether or not Mrs Hughes meant that she…well, whatever she meant, it's irrelevant because what I did was inappropriate and cannot be repeated."

"Why not?" Branson asked simply.

"What do you mean 'why not'?" Carson asked shocked.

"I mean, if you want to and Mrs Hughes wants to then what's to stop you?"

Carson took a deep breath. "I realise you are still a young man Mr Branson and therefore still somewhat prone to impulsive behaviour as the young tend to be. As you grow older and more experienced you will realise there are rules for a reason and…"

"Hang on! I'm not the one who impulsively grabbed hold of the housekeeper last night!" Branson interrupted.

"I realise that but…"

"Well where was your maturity and experience then? What happened to the rules?" Branson challenged him.

"We all make mistakes Mr Branson."

"Perhaps you shouldn't think of it as a mistake though. Maybe you should look at it as the moment you realised there was more to life than rules and living your life according to someone else's' whims." Branson had become more vehement.

Carson looked at him coldly and stood up slowly from the table.

"I think you should moderate your tone Mr Branson." He suggested.

"Sorry." Branson took a deep breath and spoke more calmly. "I don't mean to offend you Mr Carson. I just think people sometimes sacrifice too much for the sake of what other people consider proper. The world is changing. Do you really want to end your days regretting the fact you haven't lived your life fully because the people you worked for decided it would be inconvenient for you to have a personal life? If you have a chance for romance and happiness with Mrs Hughes don't you think you should grab it?" Branson suddenly noticed the look on Mr Carson's face and realised he had probably gone too far. He had momentarily forgotten he was talking to the ever dignified butler of Downton Abbey.

Carson spoke quietly.

"Perhaps you should consider Mr Branson, that people have different definitions of 'living'. And that just because a romance with Mrs Hughes might be possible it doesn't mean that it's what I want."

Carson left the room and Branson remained behind hoping he had not just made a huge blunder.


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter should have up yesterday but I had trouble signing in. I rewrote it three times and am still not entirely happy with it. Please let me know what you think and thanks again to everyone who has reviewed :)**

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><p>Carson sat at his desk and contemplated all that Mr Branson had said. He was more than a little shocked that Mr Branson had dared to speak to him like that. In fact he wasn't sure what galled him most, the content of what Branson had said or the fact that he had said anything at all. He had managed, thankfully, to maintain his composure whilst in the servant's hall but as soon as he had stepped out he had felt his face flush warmly and he had hurried to his pantry in case anyone saw him. Now sitting alone with Branson's words ringing in his ears and the memory of kissing Mrs Hughes replaying in his mind he could feel himself getting a headache. <em>You stupid man, what a mess you have got yourself into, <em>he thought. Branson had spoken as though Carson was in love with Mrs Hughes, what if Branson spoke to someone else about what he had seen? What if word reached His Lordship's ears? Carson could feel a throbbing vein in his temple. _All because you felt a bit sentimental and frisky! _ He cursed himself silently. He could try and dress it up all that he wanted and feign being appalled if anyone else suggested it but if he was completely honest he had to admit that he had been feeling… affectionate. He almost laughed at himself. _Even now you can't be honest. _Amorous. He had been feeling amorous. Whether it was due to the alcohol or because he'd spent part of the evening reminiscing about past romantic liaisons didn't really matter.

It wasn't the first time he had felt a strong physical pull towards Mrs Hughes. They had worked together in close proximity for almost two decades, they had been through tough times and happy times and he was not unwilling to admit that he had become somewhat dependent on her. Indeed he could not imagine Downton Abbey without her. _You cannot imagine Downton Abbey without her or you cannot imagine your life without her? _He was annoyed to discover that the persistent little voice in his head now sounded very similar to Mr Branson! He was more annoyed by the question however. He supposed he could not imagine his life without her. He was not so deluded that he did not realise he would someday have to retire, when he could no longer provide the best possible service to the family. And his retirement would come no doubt before Mrs Hughes', as he knew himself to be older than her. Inevitably then, she would remain at Downton and he would retire to a house in the village most likely. Obviously, retirement was not something he looked forward to and avoided thinking about. Parting with Mrs Hughes was just one of the many things which would be a difficult wrench for him when the time came but he would have to deal with it. It was not as if he could take her with him as Mr Branson seemed to imply! He was quite sure Mrs Hughes would have something to say about that and he couldn't imagine that it would have any appeal for her.

Over the years there had been a number of occasions when Carson had almost forgotten himself and had to stop himself from being inappropriately familiar with Mrs Hughes. The two previous housekeepers at Downton had both been older than Carson and rarely of the same mind as him. When Mrs Hughes had arrived he had been relieved and pleased to discover they shared a lot of the same values and ideas. They had developed an efficient working rhythm very quickly and he found that he enjoyed her company, not only when they had to work on a specific task together but in the evenings and during their private hours also. In fact he had worried a little during the first year of Mrs Hughes' employment, that perhaps they got on a little too well. He caught himself on a number of occasions admiring her physical appearance and thinking if circumstances had been different… Dangerous thoughts for a butler to have about another member of staff. He had held himself in check though, however close he came to a few slip-ups over the years and Mrs Hughes had never been anything other than professional. He is not sure he could have maintained his reserve, especially during those occasional moments of vulnerability, had she ever indicated even a hint of romantic interest. Fortunately for them both Mrs Hughes prized her career above sentiment. Whether she had done so knowingly or not, over the years it was she who had averted similar blunders to the one he had made last night. On the walk home last night he had considered some of his romantic infatuations, some more serious than others but of all of them his attraction to Mrs Hughes had lasted the longest. He had decided this was because of the more serious infatuations that he had (i.e. more than liking a woman just because he thought her pretty or elegant), Mrs Hughes was the only one he had not had any resolution to. Somewhere at the back of his mind last night he had the vague idea that perhaps if they kissed, just once even, maybe he would stop wondering. Maybe it would mean no more urges to reach out and touch her when they passed in a darkened hallway at night doing their final rounds and paused to chat, standing close to each other so they could whisper and not disturb the quiet of the house. Or maybe it would dampen the desire to sit nearer to her when they were in her parlour of an evening with a cup of tea or with the occasional small glass of wine, after a difficult day and the soft light seemed like a cocoon around them. Maybe it would mean on those dark days when he felt like he no longer understood anything of this world and feared that his presence in it was of no importance to anyone, that he would no longer wish to take comfort from someone's arms around him and inevitably think of her.

He sighed heavily and rested his head in his hands. He had come a long way since Cheerful Charlie but after all his talk of dignity, devotion to the family and service, when it boiled right down to it he was no better than any of the several footman he had seen over the years who neglected their jobs or destroyed any possibility of promotion because of a pretty housemaid. An ounce of encouragement from Mrs Hughes and he could not be certain that he would not have willingly dived head first into trouble himself years ago. It was a good thing she was such a sensible woman. Unfortunately last night he must have caught her off guard otherwise he was sure she would have prevented the entire incident. He remembered what Branson had suggested about her not minding his advances. What if she had let it happen because… Stop it!

"Mr Carson."

Carson had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that the sudden sound of Mrs Hughes voice caused him to jump out of his seat at an angle that meant he banged his knee off the desk and let out an undignified groan. He rubbed his knee, looked towards Mrs Hughes and simultaneously felt the now familiar flush rising from his neck to his cheeks. It was almost as though he was afraid she might have read his thoughts, that she somehow had taken one look at his face and now knew what he had been thinking. She looked slightly startled he noticed and then realised apart from his unseemly groan, he had not spoken.

"Mrs Hughes." He was irritated by the husky sound of his voice, as though he had just woken up.

"I don't mean to disturb you Mr Carson." She looked uncertain. "Are you alright?"

How many times had he been asked that question today, he wondered. "I'm fine Mrs Hughes and you are not disturbing me." He swallowed as he seemed to be developing a dry mouth. "In fact, I had hoped to speak to you before you retired for the night."

"If it's about this afternoon, or last night, or what I said this afternoon about last night." Mrs Hughes stared at her hands which were clasped tightly in front of her. She wished she wasn't babbling so incoherently. "I really didn't mean to offend you. I'd like to offer you my apology."

"You're apologising to me?" Carson asked in surprise. "Whatever for, it was me who all but pounced on you last night."

"It was hardly a pounce!" Mrs Hughes smiled and then gave into a quiet giggle at the very idea. "Honestly, Mr Carson, I can't think of anyone less likely to pounce than you." This time she let out an audible laugh.

Carson felt a sudden lightness as he watched her amusement. "I'll have you know I've done my fair share of pouncing Mrs Hughes!" he grinned.

Mrs Hughes raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure whatever you have done it was always done tenderly and with as much gentility as you did last night." She said quietly and began to look at her hands again suddenly self-conscious. He also felt a sudden need to avert his gaze and stared at his desk.

They spoke again simultaneously: "Mr Carson." "Mrs Hughes."

They looked at each other timidly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done what I did and I promise you it won't happen again." Carson told her earnestly.

"It's alright, you don't have to apologise." Mrs Hughes replied.

"I don't?"

"Well, I didn't exactly resist did I? And at least you had the excuse of inebriation." She attempted another smile but faltered, not quite brazen enough to follow it through.

"I shouldn't have put you in that position. I don't know why I did it." He lied stiffly.

"Probably because you felt like it." Mrs Hughes said simply. She observed the look of surprise on his face. "It's probably why I didn't resist."

Carson was speechless. He realised his mouth was open and clamped it shut. Mrs Hughes smiled.

"Don't tell me you've never felt the urge to be close to someone ever before? If you haven't you are considerably more strong willed that I am!"

"When you say "be close to someone"...?" he swallowed.

"To feel like you're a human being and not just a job title. Our cups of tea at the end of the day help. Well, they help me." She explained.

"And me!" he added quickly. "Anything else?"

She looked at him coyly. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you."

"I think I would feel better if you did."


	8. Chapter 8

**How sorry am I for the delay? VERY! Please, please forgive me? My only excuse is work and also I have struggled a little with this final chapter. Yes, this is the final chapter. I think it's a little ooc near the end and I'm not too happy with it but I didn't want to spend anymore time rewriting otherwise I would never post it. Thank you all so much for your reviews and messages, it means a lot that you have enjoyed this so much. I hope this last installment isn't a disappointmen.**

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><p>Mrs Hughes wasn't quite sure what to say. There was something about the way that Mr Carson was looking at her, an expectancy in his expression but an expectancy of what she didn't know. She shrugged slightly.<p>

"Well, our chats of an evening. Sometimes when we walk into the village together…different things." She said.

"And last night? That made you feel… like, like more than just the housekeeper?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes." She said quietly, suddenly abashed. Perhaps she should not have admitted that. Perhaps it was an admission too far. "Is that why you…kissed me? To feel like more than just the butler?" she asked gently.

Carson began to look at his shoes. There was a smudge on his right one he noticed absentmindedly.

"I've thought about doing it before. Last night I forgot to think. I just did it."

Carson was as surprised as Mrs Hughes by his confession. They stared at each other for what seemed like an age to both of them but neither knew what to say. Eventually Mrs Hughes broke the silence.

"I don't know what to say." She admitted. "I never suspected that you…might…" she trailed off.

"I understand if this colours your opinion of me." Carson said bowing his head shamefully. "And I fully deserve the loss of your high esteem, if I am not too bold in assuming I had it to begin with." He added.

Mrs Hughes looked confused. "Of course I have always held you in the highest esteem Mr Carson and will continue to do so. I cannot imagine why you think this would lessen my opinion of you."

"I don't want you to think I've been having lecherous thoughts about you all these years or that my admission would make you uncomfortable in anyway. I suppose it's like you said, sometimes I have wanted to be more than just the butler and you are the only person with whom I feel I can relax and step outside of that role with. Every now and again however, I have allowed myself perhaps to relax too much and that is when, on occasion, I have wondered what it might be like to…" he really had to force the words out, "to…" he shrugged helplessly.

"Kiss me." She filled in the pause.

"Yes." He nodded.

"I am flattered Mr Carson." She said with a small smile.

"You are?"

She nodded. "It means a great deal to me that you feel that comfortable with me."

"Comfortable enough to make unwanted advances?" Carson raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Mrs Hughes rolled her eyes. "I thought it was fairly obvious now that it wasn't unwanted! But if I have to spell it out…" she sighed. "Mr Carson, you have not been alone all these years in your… shall we call them 'wonderings'? I confess that I too have _wondered_ what it might be like to kiss you."

Stunned though he was by her words he couldn't help but notice the pink flush that appeared on her cheeks. "So we've both been _wondering_! It's not surprising I suppose. We do spend an awful lot of time together. And we're only human. I suppose everyone has these _thoughts_ now and again, it is after all a…a biological…" he struggled for an appropriate description to disguise the fact he wasn't quite sure what he was saying. "Well, it's human nature! The main thing is we never acted on them that is where it becomes truly inappropriate. I mean, one cannot always control what one thinks about." He said.

"Well, they were not acted upon until last night." Mrs Hughes corrected him.

"Ah yes." He looked at his desk again. "Although, considering all the years we have worked together and…"

"All the years we've been wondering." She added.

"Hmm yes. Considering all that, I think we've shown remarkable reserve and self-discipline." Carson drew himself up to full butler posture.

Mrs Hughes held back a smile. "I think we've shown a remarkable level of obliviousness." She said.

Carson looked at her questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"All this time and it didn't occur to either of us that we were both feeling the same way. It's no surprise neither of us ever married!" she shook her head in amusement.

"Well it's not like I went around holding a placard saying "I fancy Mrs Hughes." Or vice versa. We maintained our professionalism, that's the point I was making, we should be proud of ourselves." Carson clarified but the look on her face told him she didn't agree.

"Should we?"

"Of course." He insisted. "What are you saying?"

Mrs Hughes bit her lip, suddenly there was no hint of the previous amusement. She seemed hesitant and nervous.

"If we'd been a little less professional. Less butler and housekeeper. Less Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes. Then maybe…" she looked into his eyes to see if there was any sign that he understood what she was getting at. Looking back at her however was Mr Carson, Butler of Downton Abbey and he had that nervous look he got when he was afraid someone was going to make a blunder. The look he had the first time William served at table. The 'I'm-trying-to-be-encouraging-but-please-don't-let-me-down' look. She could imagine his reaction if she asked said what she really wanted to say. He wasn't ready to hear it. Not yet. She sighed quietly. "I don't know. Maybe… maybe it's not such a bad thing. If it helps us, deal with the stresses and strains of life then, perhaps we shouldn't be so resistant to the idea of it…maybe…happening again." She looked down at her hands.

"Are you suggesting a relationship?" Carson asked uneasily and she noticed he took a slight step back.

"Not exactly. Perhaps just an adjustment to the relationship we already have." She explained.

His eyes narrowed. "What kind of adjustment?"

"The kind where, if either of us ever felt in need of comfort or anything like that, that we would know that we didn't have to hide it."

Carson was quiet for a moment whilst he considered and tried to get his head around this. He sat on the edge of his desk distractedly. "So if, for instance, I felt a bit down, I could come to you."

"Yes." She nodded.

"How far would this comfort extend?" he asked cautiously.

"Whatever it took to make you feel better." She replied.

"You see, my confusion lies in the fact that I already feel as though I can come and talk to you if something is troubling me, so I'm not sure what difference…" he said.

"I don't think there is any confusion Mr Carson." She cut him off bluntly. "I think we both know that what I meant was if you ever feel like kissing me again then please don't hesitate." She adored Mr Carson but she wished he would not always feel the need to be so proper and would speak his mind more. He was shocked by her candour she could tell and she hoped she had not scandalized him too much. "You said yourself Mr Carson, it's biology and perfectly natural to want to… and we have shown remarkable self-restraint all these years, rightly or wrongly. So where is the harm, if now at our time of life we take some physical comfort from one another. You are the closest I shall ever get to having a husband Mr Carson, and I the closest you will get to having a wife. And to be quite honest, for my part at least, I don't think I could have chosen a better partner to spend my days with. You probably think I've lost my mind."

She looked at him helplessly and nervously. For once she could not read his expression. She couldn't bear his silence.

"Please say something Mr Carson."

"I think you're absolutely right." He said.

"You do?" she asked, stunned.

"Yes." He nodded and a broad grin spread across his face before he replaced his with a more sincere expression again. "Obviously, we still need to maintain some restraint and I would not for one second suggest that we embark on anything immoral or improper but… if sometimes we were to be a little closer then…" he shrugged.

Mrs Hughes was elated and it was written quite plainly across her face. "Perhaps now could be one of those moments?" she asked and Carson grinned again, reaching out his arms and inviting her to come closer.

It felt strange to put wrap his arms around her and feel her arms encircle his shoulders. He remained sitting on the edge of the desk so has to be more level with her face. Mrs Hughes sighed contentedly. Carson smiled for a second until his eyes widened and he gently pushed her away again, stood up and rushed to the door.

"Mr Carson?" she asked, bewildered until she realised he was locking the door. "Everyone has retired for the night." She said smiling at his caution.

"There is no such thing as being _too _careful." He replied, thinking about Branson. He wondered if he should tell her the chauffeur has witnessed their kiss the night before but decided not to.

"I'm not sure I entirely agree," Mrs Hughes said, "we all have to take risks in life at some time or another. If people didn't take risks nothing would ever change." She mused almost to herself.

Carson was reminded of Branson and his speech about 'passion'. "What are your views on passion Mrs Hughes?" he asked, settling on the edge of his desk again and placing his arms gently on her waist as she stepped nearer to him.

"Passion?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. Apparently you Celts are all about passion." He grinned.

"Oh really? And who told you that?" she placed her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him.

Carson found that he couldn't quite concentrate on answering her question. "Ju..just someone…" his heart was pounding so much he was sure she must be able to feel it too.

Mrs Hughes smiled. "It wasn't a certain Irishman was it?" she asked.

"How did you know?"

She laughed. "I heard him giving his sermon on passion to William once. And to Mr Bates. And to Lady Sybil." She smiled. "He's very passionate about passion."

Carson laughed. "Hmm. He is indeed." A thought occurred to him. "To Lady Sybil?" he asked, eyebrows raised suspiciously. "When was this?"

"Oh a while ago." Mrs Hughes replied disinterestedly.

"Do you think I should mention it to His Lordship? It's hardly appropriate…" he began back in full butler mode again.

"They were only talking." She rolled her eyes.

"It still isn't an appropriate topic for a chauffeur to discuss with a young Lady." He grumbled.

"It wasn't anything sordid, believe me if I thought it was anything inappropriate I'd have put a stop to it myself and sent him off with a flea in his ear!"

Carson smiled, knowing that was true. "It's just that Mr Branson has a tendency to get carried away and forget who he is addressing sometimes. I wouldn't like to think that he might say anything inappropriate or upsetting to Lady Sybil, she is still a young girl despite all her political ramblings." He explained.

"I don't think she would appreciate her views being described as 'ramblings'!" Mrs Hughes said.

"You know what I mean."

She nodded. "He does sometimes get carried away." She admitted. "And so does Lady Sybil." She added. She sighed. How had they managed to get talking about this?

Carson began stroking either side of her waist with his thumbs and seemed to be quite engrossed with the pattern on her dress. She was a little surprised when she realised where his gaze really lay! He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye suddenly.

"Mrs Hughes… at what point do we draw the line?" he asked in his low rumbling tone.

"With Mr Branson and Lady Sybil?" she asked confused.

"No, with this… new… _arrangement_ we have." His grip on her waist tightened.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how far… I mean, is it just…" his mouth was going dry again and he swallowed hard, " I'm not suggesting that we do but if we're… then we might find ourselves in the situation where we are about to…" he shrugged, " and well, perhaps this whole thing is a bad idea."

"I'm afraid Mr Carson, I don't understand what you're trying to say." She said completely baffled.

"Perhaps with this new arrangement we are leaving ourselves open to complications that are best avoided. I would hate to think that I might ever put you in a position that might sully your character or reputation."

She began to realise what he was getting at. "Oh." She felt her cheeks flush.

"If we put a stop to it now before anything unseemly happens then it will be easier for both of us." Even as he said the words and even though he desperately wanted to mean what he said he couldn't help but wish he didn't feel so obliged to make the statement. A part of him hoped she would disagree.

"Can't we just see how it goes? I trust you implicitly Mr Carson and the very fact that you would make such a statement and have such concern for my reputation tells me I needn't worry about entering into any situation that I would not feel comfortable with." She couldn't bear the thought of going back to the old ways before they had even tried to make this work.

He felt a surge of relief but still felt cautious. "I don't want you to think that I am presuming too much Mrs Hughes but one thing often leads to another and before you know it… someone has to say no. I just thought it might be easier to do that now rather than when things are more… intense."

She nodded. "I understand, but I don't think we need to get too ahead of ourselves. This isn't supposed to be stressful." She stroked his cheek with her hand and he smiled sheepishly.

"I suppose it's a force of habit, wanting to be prepared for all eventualities." He said.

"Yes, well, you're not being butler now! Let's just see how things go and we will decide on those _other matters_ when and if they arise."

He nodded and drew her in for a kiss. He had thought last night's kiss to be quite wonderful but he marvelled now at the sensations she sparked within him as she leant against him, her hand stroking his face and her other hand playing about at the collar of his shirt. They became quite breathless and as they pulled apart he groaned.

"What it is?" she asked.

"Those _other matters_." He said. "They've already arisen." He sighed. "Perhaps we should call it a night."

He looked so tired she thought.

"Alright." She smiled gently and kissed him on his forehead then briskly turned and made her way to the door. "Goodnight Mr Carson."

"Goodnight Mrs Hughes." He replied.

_Mr Carson_. Perhaps he imagined it or perhaps it was simply her accent but 'Mr Carson' sounded different when she said it. It probably wasn't possible to ever for back to being Charles but that Scottish lilt made him think that being Mr Carson held a lot more promise and might be a lot better than he had previously realised. He smiled to himself.

* * *

><p><em>The End. :)<em>


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